


Drunken Carolling

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: tumblr ficlets [32]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recovering Alcoholic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17457131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: James and Alistair spend Christmas eve with Harry and Merlin.





	Drunken Carolling

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was basically the title.

“That is not a thing,” Merlin says as he pulls the front door open.

“Oh yes, it is,” Harry insists from somewhere behind him.

“Sorry, are we interrupting something?” James asks. He has an arm around Alistair’s waist (“Because it’s winter! It’s cold! We should be huddled for warmth! No, stop fretting, no one cares that we’re both men, it’s cold out!”), but they separate as they enter the house, warm air washing over them as they shed their layers.

“Drunken carolling,” Merlin says. “This idiot insists it’s real and that we should do it.”

“It’s Christmas!” Harry says. “Tell me you don’t want to get absolutely sloshed and embarrass the neighbours?”

James glances at Alistair, who’s hands have tightened into fists, his jaw set. “I thought you invited us over for Christmas dinner,” he says carefully, reaching out and taking his boyfriend’s hand, subtly coaxing the fingers to uncurl. It’s actually Christmas Eve, but Harry had told them point blank that he’s got a few Christmas presents for Merlin that will involve a good chunk of tomorrow evening. James and Alistair had decided not to ask.

“Well, yes, but after,” Harry says. “It’ll be fun!”

“For you, maybe, but not all of us enjoy getting drunk and making fools of ourselves,” Merlin grumbles.

“Are you still bitter about the holiday party last year, darling?” Harry asks. “Because you really weren’t bad at all. You have a lovely voice for karaoke.”

James stifles a laugh. “Better than me, anyway,” he says. He hadn’t been drunk, though. Honestly, he hardly ever drinks anymore, and never to excess and never in front of Alistair. “But Merlin’s right. I’m not sure I want to go carol singing at all, much less do it drunk.”

“Spoilsport,” Harry pouts. “I’m disappointed, James. I thought you, of all people, would be on my side.”

James shrugs, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he says, “Now, about dinner? Please tell me Merlin didn’t cook.”

“He’s been banned from the kitchen all day,” Harry reassures him, leading them into the dining room. “He may sing like an angel, but he cooks like he’s in hell. How he manages to burn water I will never know.”

Merlin doesn’t attempt to defend himself. They all know he’s a lousy cook.

***

“Does it ever bother you?” Alistair asks when they’re safely home. Dinner had been followed, not by carol singing, drunk or otherwise, but by cuddling on the couch watching Love Actually (a tradition, no matter how much Merlin insists he hates the movie). When the credits started rolling, Merlin and Harry bid them goodbye, and James and Alistair returned home amid freshly brewing snowflakes.

They’re in bed now, Alistair curled up on his side, facing away from James.

“Does what ever bother me?” he asks.

Alistair shrugs, a tiny rise and fall of the blankets in the darkness. “Having to hold yourself back for my sake,” he says.

“Who says I’m holding myself back?”

“I know you drink when I’m not around.”

“So?”

“So,” Alistair says, sounding miserable, “it’s not fair to you to make you stay sober for my sake. You could have gotten drunk with Harry and Merlin and gone out and had fun, and instead, you’re stuck babysitting me.”

“Is that what you think happened?” James props himself up, reaching out for Alistair and turning him on his back so he can see his face. “You didn’t make me do anything. I know I could have had a drink if I wanted to, but I know it’s harder on you when I do, so I don’t. It’s my choice. I was _not_ babysitting you, and I’m fairly certain Harry was joking about drunk carolling anyway.”

Alistair doesn’t respond, just curls in on himself and tries to turn over again.

James doesn’t let him, “How long has this been bothering you?”

Alistair shrugs, avoiding James’s gaze, “A while.”

“How long is a while?”

“A few weeks?” Alistair suggests. “A few months? Does it really matter?”

“Since I found out?”

Alistair sighs. “Maybe.”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Of course, I know that,” Alistair says. He sits up and buries his face in his hands. “You deserve better.”

James sits up and wraps his arms around Alistair. “Better than you? I don’t think I could find someone better than you. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.”

“So you’ll stay with a recovering alcoholic with abandonment issues?”

“I’ll stay with you,” James corrects, “because I love you and you are so much more than that. You’ve made so much progress, darling, and I’m so proud of you.”

“You know how I spent Christmas before you?”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I usually got blackout drunk on Christmas Eve and didn’t stop until New Year’s.” Alistair shudders in James’s arms, and James feels his heart break.

He presses a kiss to Alistair’s temple. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.”

“Alistair-“

“I love you, James. And I’ll stay with you because I love you and I’m selfish and you make me want to be better. But don’t pretend that everything is okay.”

“Everything _is_ okay,” James says. “Maybe it’s not perfect. But it’s okay. Do you think you can settle for that?”

“Between the two of us, you’re the one who’s settling.”

“Never,” James says fiercely. He kisses Alistair, softly, on the lips. He’s not going to change his mind overnight, so instead he says, “We should sleep, darling. Otherwise Santa won’t come and bring you any presents.”

“I’m a grown man, James.”

“And Santa is definitely bringing a few grown-up presents for good boys who go to sleep.”

Alistair laughs in spite of himself. “You’re ridiculous.” But he settles back against the bed, curled up close enough that James can feel his beating heart.

James settles too and murmurs, “Happy Christmas, darling.”

“Harry Christmas, James.”


End file.
